They all had dreams, dreams where they would make their loved ones proud, where they would feel like
they made a difference. Like Toy Soldiers they followed what they thought was their calling.
But now, they are faced with the harsh reality, that there is no glory in war, just misery and regret. It slowly creeps up in your perception like doubt. But then, comes a significant event that allows it to strike so profoundly the creep turns into a p
ounce, that devours your entire mind…
The only way out of here, is in a Body Bag…
They’ve been duped…fooled and played with, like Toy Soldiers…
They march and make formations, strip weapons and train like warriors, eat anything and survive the harshest conditions, all for what…to end up in enemy crosshairs who are as casual as taking your life as a teenager playing Call of Duty..
All for what?
To be killed..killed along with many of their brothers who endured the same pain they did..who had the same lost hopes they did, he was talked into it like they did and fooled into being cannon fodder for beef between two politicians that will keep sending off more fools to their death. Until when, until he looks like a murderer for killing so many of his nation’s sons, only then..will they sit down and sort out their differences on paper and do what politicians are really supposed to do.
But then what? Who is going to bring back those brothers we lost? The body parts forever maimed, the horrific scenes, who is going to undo the damage?
Was it worth it tayeb?
Was there no other way of doing it?
He walked in complete darkness seeing only whatever the moon reflected its light over. He felt no fear, not that it was not scary, nor that because he was the bravest of them all. It was far simpler than that,
He had himself, and he was willingly accepting his fate,
A Himself he had never knew existed before. A Himself that was driven internally, that needed not any form of external drive or passion, that required no acceptance or approval from anything else God has created. A fully self-sufficient self that required nothing external to exist and be. Whatever he required, he could provide for himself, whatever solutions he needed, he could come up with and execute himself.
He achieved that when he realized that he would die in this huge field surrounded by trenches on both sides. His Government is too hot headed to back down, while the enemy is fighting to protect its right to exist. The price of stubbornness comes at a very expensive price…his life,
And there is nothing he can do about it but to accept it,
A lot changes when you know you are about to die. No last minute miracles, no grand exit, no glamorous soundtrack, no slow motion…nothing..just the sound of bullets piercing you like a rotten peach, maybe your own screams of pain..pain you have never felt before, that’s all.
When that certainty hits you, its over..you turn into a brave fighting machine that has sold the world and everything in it. You decide to provoke Doom and Fate into taking you sooner, by doing something what others would call “brave” when in reality it is nothing but Rage, and that is exactly what your commanders want you to do.
If you die, you will bemartyred, if you survive that stunt of sheer idiocy you just pulled, you will be decorated with a medal, maybe even promoted to a higher rank and expected to do it again…
Why the lunacy? I think I would have just rather been martyred rather than go at it again and again and watch more buddies die and be maimed in the ugliest ways possible.
What if you survive that, after the war is over? Can you go about your life again? Knowing you killed someone/? Not one, probably at least ten…ten widows made, at least ten children orphaned all for what? A slogan your commanders talked you into believing?
There are no Rambos in real life, Just Caskets flying home, flags and a 21 gun salute.
To every Commander in Chief that has commanded a nation to go to war; May you eternally be fuel to the eternal fire of Hell.